


Home is Where You Hold it Together

by Lefaym



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn has to hold it together, because she's the only one who can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where You Hold it Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pie_is_good](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pie_is_good/gifts).



> Many thanks to lionessvalenti for the beta.

I wrapped my coat around me tightly, and took in the sight: a quaint, picturesque Connecticut town. Everyone seemed to know each other. They greeted each other in the street, and shook hands and kissed cheeks. They looked as though they’d been here forever.

“This is _stupid_ ,” said my brother Jeff, his hands balling into fists. “I want to go _home_.”

“Shhh!” I said, glancing pointedly at Mom, across the street. “She’ll hear you.”

“It _is_ stupid. You know it is.”

“I know, I know,” I said in a whisper. Fortunately, Mom didn’t seem to have heard. She was still at the car, searching desperately through her handbag for the keys she’d been holding two minutes ago. “We just have to pretend to like it for a bit, okay?” 

“I don’t want to pretend.” Jeff shivered, and that set me off. It was so _cold_ here. But that didn’t seem to bother the residents of Stoneybrook Connecticut.

I sighed. “Please, Jeff. Pretend for me, please? I don’t want…”

“Don’t want what?” Jeff pouted.

“I don’t want her to cry again, alright?” I hated how desperate my voice sounded, and when I saw Jeff’s face twist, I wished I hadn’t said anything at all.

Suddenly I was blinking back my own tears, and I wanted to tell Jeff to talk as loudly as he liked. Why should I care about Mom, anyway? Mom, who’d dragged us all the way across the country, as far away from Dad as we could possibly be, who’d told us how much we’d _love_ it here, again and again. She’d promised, over and over, that we’d love it like she did.

Looking down the street now, with Jeff gulping beside me, I couldn’t see how we’d ever be able to love this place. We’d always be outsiders. And besides, I didn’t want to love it, no matter how great Mom said it was.

Not that there was any reason to believe anything Mom said anymore, anyway. I could feel my fingernails digging into my palm, as I tried to forget about last night.

“Dawn? Dawn?” Jeff’s shaky voice pulled me back into the present. He grabbed my hand, as though he was still six. “I’m sorry, Dawn,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

I shook my head. “It’s okay.”

That’s what I’d said last night too. _It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay. You don’t have to cry anymore, it’ll all be okay._

I closed my eyes, hoping that would make the memory go away, but that just made it worse.

She’d promised that we’d be happy—she’d been talking about how _wonderful_ everything was going to be, and then last night, when we were finally in our new house – our new _old_ house – she’d sat down on the floor in the middle of the living room, unpacked boxes all around her – she’d sat down on the floor and _cried_. As though she was the one who’d been forced to leave her school and her friends and her own father. As though she was the one who’d been torn in two, with half of her left behind in California.

I’d hated Mom last night. I’d _hated_ her even as I held her and tried to make it all better.

Mom hadn’t even noticed when Jeff ran away; she hadn’t even heard the crash from the back of the house that had meant he’d gotten into trouble somehow, and I hadn’t even been able to go and see if he was alright, because Mom was holding onto me, and I was scared, so scared of everything, but Mom needed me to be strong, so I just stayed there beside her, like Mrs Winslow had done during those last few months in California, and like Dad had done before everything went wrong.

Maybe that’s why everything had gone wrong in the first place.

I opened my eyes. Mom was still rifling through her purse; she was starting to look desperate now. _Oh cripes_ , I thought, _please don’t let her start crying again here_.

Jeff looked at me, worried. He’d seen the expression on Mom’s face too. I tried to think of something to do, before everything fell apart.

Then I remembered – I still had three quarters in my purse, all that was left from my last baby-sitting job for Daffodil and Clover Austin, back in California. That had only been a week ago, but it seemed like an entire lifetime had passed since then.

“Hey, Jeff,” I said, retrieving the quarters. “Want to play some Pac Man?” I gestured to the small arcade about twenty yards away. It was close enough that I’d be able to keep an eye on the entrance, at least.

Jeff’s face lit up as I pressed the money into his hand. “Oh, wow! Thanks, Dawn!” he said. I could tell he felt relieved. I waited until I’d seen him go in before I turned my attention back to Mom.

She was in full-on panic mode now. She’d emptied her handbag on the asphalt beside the car, and was replacing each item (her wallet, hair combs, assorted trash, mirror, and, for some reason, two eggs that she’d hardboiled this morning) one at a time. I walked over to her slowly, and she looked up at me.

“Oh, Dawn!” she said. “I don’t know how, it’s happened. I had them just a minute ago – the keys, I mean – and now they’re gone!”

“Did you check the ignition?”

Mom nodded, standing up slowly. One of the eggs, which she seemed to have forgotten, rolled under the car as I double-checked the ignition. Definitely no key there. I saw that she’d also forgotten to lock the driver side door, and offered a small prayer of thanks. At least we weren’t locked out of the car.

“What am I going to do?” said Mom, and now I could hear the tears in her voice.

_No, no, no_ , I thought. “Mom,” I said, turning back to her, trying to keep my own voice strong. And then my eye caught on something, just beneath her hip.

“What is it, Dawn?”

“What’s in your pocket, Mom?”

Mom’s hand snapped into her pocket, and a second later the keys were in her palm. “Oh, how _stupid_ of me!” she said. “Of course I put them there, I remember thinking, safer there than my handbag, and – oh, Dawn, what would I do without you?”

I couldn’t answer that, because I was struggling not to cry again. I hugged Mom, so that she wouldn’t notice. Mom hugged me back, and I thought I heard her sniffle. I didn’t pull away until I felt like I had things under control.

“Okay,” I said at last. “We should go after Jeff, or we’ll never get him out of that arcade.”

Mom nodded. “Right.”

“Maybe give me the keys, though?” I suggested.

“Good idea.” Mom handed them over, and I slipped them into my purse.

We walked onto the sidewalk together, heading toward the arcade, in this strange tiny town, where I looked so out of place, with my tan and my long California-blonde hair. “You know, Mom,” I said, “I think you were right. Jeff and I _will_ love it here.”

For a moment, Mom didn’t react, and I was worried that I hadn’t sounded convincing enough. But then she smiled. “I’m know you will, Dawn; we’ll all be so happy, I promise…”

I hoped that I was a better liar than Mom, at least. Summoning all my energy, I smiled at her, and pushed everything else to the side. “We’ll feel at home here in no time,” I said.

Mom needed me, and Jeff needed me. I tried not to shiver in the breeze. I could do this.


End file.
